


Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Chesapeake Ripper

by sherlylovesbees



Category: Hannibal (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A bit of mystrade, After Season Four, BAMF John, Chesapeake Ripper, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, John Watson Is A BAMF, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Manipulative Will Graham, Murder Husbands, Rating is Mature just to be safe, Red Herrings, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Husbands, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Parents, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are in America, Sherlock Holmes and Will Graham, Sherlock tries to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, The Feeling Is Mutual, Will Graham hates Sherlock Holmes, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a liar, Will Graham is also the Chesapeake Ripper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlylovesbees/pseuds/sherlylovesbees
Summary: This case takes place after the end of season four. John has moved to America with Sherlock Holmes and they have decided to “start over” after the death Mary Morstan. Together, they raise their child, Rosamund. During the John and Sherlock’s new life in Baltimore, murders begin to occur at the hands of the "Chesapeake Ripper." Starving for a case and a chance of satisfying his boredom, Sherlock Holmes contacts Jack Crawford, the head of the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI. He is granted the opportunity to work alongside the FBI in the hunt for the dubious Ripper. On the discovery of a severed arm, which belonged to the “deceased” F.B.I trainee, Miriram Lass (who was believed to be the Chesapeake Ripper’s ninth victim) , Will Graham is sucked into the case as Jack Crawford reopens it and encourages he works with the equally insufferable private detective. Little does anyone know, Will Graham has formed an emotional bond with his Psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter, who has now manipulated Will into committing crimes as the Chesapeake Ripper with him in secret. Sherlock Holmes will have to solve the case of the Chesapeake Ripper while receiving multiple Red Herrings from Will Graham, who is working as a profiler on this case.





	Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Chesapeake Ripper

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this fanficiton! This is my second work on here and I'm super pumped for it considering my two favorite fandoms are in it. This seems to be a very popular crossover among the Hannibal and Sherlock fandom so I thought I'd give myself a go at it. If you're not part of the Hannibal fandom, don't worry- I'll try to explain everything as if you're meeting the characters for the first time as Sherlock and John are. I've been wanting to write this for a while and I'm so excited to present to you the first chapter!

Sherlock Holmes sat on the sofa in his new home in Baltimore and stares at the ceiling, the bright blue color appearing to scream back at him with as much force as Sherlock wanted to scream with. The walls were the color of the sky on a clear sunny day. It was the type of day that brought memories and pain back about his deceased best friend and younger sister. Sherlock groaned and looked away, placing his hands over his face he let out another agonizing sigh as he wiped his face and closed his eyes for a brief minute. It had been weeks since Sherlock has had a new case and the boredom was starting to eat away at him. The last case he had had been a regretfully easy one. The case had begun with a man who had consulted Sherlock Holmes after being accepted to a job due to his red hair. He had worked the job for a course of a couple of months before his employer and business had suddenly vanished. Sherlock, upon the never dulling awe of his companion, John Watson, had swiftly solved the case in a matter of forty-eight-hours. It turns out, Jabez Wilson, the one who had been employed by “The Red Headed League”, was a pawn broker and his employer was stealing Wilson’s money as he went out daily to work for the League. The case had left Sherlock in a rather dull mood as he had felt as if the whole thing was “Rather obvious” and a waste of his time.

Abruptly, he sits up on the couch and stares out the window for a second, the chilling air of winter rushes in through the partially opened window and lets in the everyday traffic and life of the town. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and the streets were unusually quiet. People were either at Church or relaxing in their homes with their families. _Dull_ Sherlock thinks as he moves off the couch in a sluggish manner and stalks over to the coat rack to grab his trench coat. He moves himself to the front door before being abruptly stopped by a sound of a clearing throat behind him. Sherlock turns around, coming face-to-face with the devilishly handsome John Watson-Holmes.

“Hey,” he whispers, moving closer to Sherlock so that they’re inches apart from each other.

“Hey,” Sherlock replies, hooking his hands around his Husband’s neck before pulling him into a kiss. The kiss is short, and ends with Sherlock abruptly pulling away, granting a wine from John in the process.

“So…where are you going?” John asked, nuzzling his face into Sherlock’s clothes, inhaling his admittedly intoxicating scent. He smells like mint and vanilla mixed with his shampoo. “Wait,” John said, looking up at Sherlock with a cocked eyebrow. “Did you use my shampoo?” Sherlock laughs leans down to plant a kiss on John’s forehead.

“Indeed, I did. I was trying something new. Brilliant deduction _doctor_.” Sherlock says, making sure to draw out the word doctor as much as he can with his slick, velvety voice.

“Oh, the things you do to me.” John says, pulling Sherlock down by his scarf again and leaning in for another kiss. They continue kissing for a moment before Sherlock pulls away once more. He heads for the door, being stopped by John’s hands being tightly wrapped around Sherlock’s abdomen. Sherlock sighs, looking down at Sherlock with a mock-annoyed face.

“Oh, _please_ John, if I knew you’d be this clingy I would’ve married a pair of leather pants.” His retort makes John chuckle, he leans into Sherlock more, planting kisses on his trench coat wrapped around himself.

“As long as you were wearing them I’d have no complaints. You know how much I love your fantastic _arse_ ” John says, punctuating “arse” by grabbing a handful of the consulting detective’s butt, causing him to squeal and turn around. He lands one more kiss on John’s lips before fumbling with the door handle, trying to unlock the door (which is rather difficult to do when you have someone who seems to be clinging for dear life to his partner). Finally after a few tries, he manages to get it open. He kisses John on the cheek before pulling himself out of the blogger’s restraints.

“Going for a walk.” Sherlock said as he went in to plant a kiss on John’s nose. “I’ll be back in a while.”

“Okay,” John said, looking down and pretending to be extremely disappointed. “Just promise to come back and not run away with a more attractive bloke.” He said, smiling as he paced his forehead on his husband’s.

“Do try to be realistic John,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as he smiled against his Lover’s lips. “Love you,” he whispered, kissing John once more before heading towards the door.

“Love you too, you sexy beast.”

Sherlock laughs before closing the door behind him and walking out into the cold.

-

                Sherlock felt awful about lying to John, it served no purpose. Once Sherlock slipped back into their house, John would be able to smell it on him, and he’d be forced to abandon his clothes and scrub it off him.

                Sherlock sighed and pulled out the carton of cigarettes that were in his coat pocket. He took a cigarette out and placed it between his fingers while moving it to his lips. He took the lighter out of is breast pocket and lit the cigarette. Closing his eyes as he inhaled the addicting flavor of tobacco into his lungs. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he released the smoke from his body. Closing his eyes as he slouched on the wall behind him, feeling the cold bricks through his coat. He took another drag of his cigarette before continuing his walk. The sky was a foggy grey and the air bit fiercely at his skin. He walked at a _moderato_ pace, trying to draw out his feeling of bliss as long as possible, not paying attention to the disgusted looks he got from mothers and older people. Sherlock took yet another drag of his cigarette as he walked through the crowded streets of Baltimore.

                By the time he gets home, Sherlock is already on his second cigarette. It’s not a long walk, but the last time Sherlock had a cigarette was two weeks ago and his addiction was eating at him to the point where he thought he might freak out if he didn’t have one. Sherlock moved his head upwards, hitting it on the stone wall of their house. John and Sherlock had a relatively nice house. If it wasn’t for Rosamund, they most likely would have just gotten an apartment, or stayed at Baker Street. Even though leaving all his colleagues was sweet sorrow, Sherlock was glad they had did it. London was tearing away at him and he could barely stand any of it anymore. He had put it off for so long, feeling as though John wouldn’t feel the same way, but eventually he reached his limit and told John what he was feeling. Thankfully, John had felt the same way. John applied for a job in medicine in the States and they moved at their first offer in Baltimore. The house had three bedrooms: one for Rosie, one for John and him, and the last for any visitors they might have (though it was highly unlikely). Sherlock liked his new life- he truly did, but he was bored out of his mind and he needed something to occupy it before he ruined yet another wall. Sherlock finished the last of his cigarette and threw it on the ground, stomping out the last of it before trailing back inside.

                Once inside, he was met by John Watson in the kitchen with an apron around his waist. Rosamund was sitting beside him on the floor, playing with a bee stuffed animal Sherlock had given to her upon their journey to America.

                “Hey handsome,” Sherlock said, coming around the corner and leaning in close to John.

                “Hello yourself,” John said, standing on his tiptoes to give his husband a peck on the nose before returning to cooking. Sherlock frowned, looking at John with a disappointed look.

                “What, no kiss on the lips?”

                “Not with you smelling like that, no.” John said. Turning back at Sherlock with the disappointed look a mother might give her child after finding out they had been disobeying them. “Sherlock, I know that work has been hard but _please,_ try to top yeah? If not for me, then for Rosie." With the sound of her name, Rosie looked up at her fathers, smiling widely while laughing and making all sorts of adorable noises. Sherlock leaned down and kissed Rosie on the head before shedding his coat and scarf. He walked out the door into the hallway, peeling off the rest of his clothes and placing them in the washer machine.

                “Okay John,” Sherlock said, “I’ll try.”

-

                After about forty minutes, Sherlock came back out of the shower, his hair decorated with beads of water as he did his best to wipe it off with a towel.

                “Ah, there you are.” John said, moving towards Sherlock to give him a proper kiss. “I was starting to think you were having fun without me in there.” Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes while John gave him a wink. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Rosie’s exhausted, mind taking her to bed?”

                Sherlock bent down and took the child into his arms. He kissed her on the nose and turned back to John. “As long as you’ll be taking me to bed later.” With that Sherlock walked off, making sure to sway his hips as he sauntered into the hallway.

                “Bloody tease” John smiled to himself, he hummed as he finished up the rest of dinner.

                Sherlock and John sat on the couch, eating mushroom ravioli while watching the News.

                “Honestly Sherlock, I don’t understand why you always insist on watching the news. It’s still as boring as it was in London.”

                “Oh, on the contrary, Watson. With that orange baboon in the office, it’s almost like a soap opera.” John giggled as he brought his glass of wine to his mouth before taking a sip.

                “You know Sherlock, you shoul-“John was cut off by Sherlock’s harsh ‘ _shhhhhhhh’_

                “Shut up,” He said as he turned up the volume on the television. A blonde news reporter was speaking at the time. She seemed to be in her late thirties, the wind picked up softly as she spoke. Her voice was soft and soothing and she seemed to have a hint of a country accent.

                “ _Good afternoon, the third murder has just occurred near Baltimore today. Dan Mead, a father of three was killed today in his office. This appears to be the third victim of a killer who has been named by the journalists as the “Chesapeake Ripper.” Three days ago, a man was murdered in his apartment in Essex and three days before that, a woman in her garage in Minneapolis. All three of these cases are being treated as linked and the F.B.I is now investigating this apparent serial killer. For more information visit our website at-“_

                Sherlock cut off the tv, looking wide eyed at John as he placed his hands on both his shoulders.

“John,” he said, the excitement thick in his voice as he looked at John with a huge smile on his face. “I need this case.”

                John laughed at his husband, he was so adorable when he was amused like this. He kissed him on the cheek before taking their dirty dishes into the kitchen. “You know,” he called out, “my hospital has worked closely with the F.B.I before. I bet I could get someone to talk to you.” Sherlock jumped up from the sofa, smiling widely as he hugged John tight.

                “Oh yes _please,_ John. I need this so much.”

                “Here let me see if I have one of their numbers,” John said, looking through his contacts with a furrowed brow. “Ah,” he said showing Sherlock the number. “His name’s Jack Crawford. He’s head of the Behavioral Science unit. He’ll probably be one of the ones in charge with this case.” Sherlock gave John a peck on the cheek before snatching his phone and dialing Crawford.

                Sherlock quickly hit “call” his hands trembling with excitement. “Hello? Ah, Hi Mister Crawford, oh no this isn’t John Watson, It’s his husband, Sherlock Holmes. I couldn’t help but notice that you’re working on a case regarding a certain serial killer.” A muffled voice could be heard from the phone as Sherlock paced the room, nodding his head as he went along. He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, his forehead wrinkling as he stood with a rather disgusted look on his face. “Oh no sir, I can assure you I am not a Journalist. I am a detective. The best in London if I say so myself,” The voice could be heard on the other phone again. Sherlock looked deep in thought as he continued to listen to what the other man was saying. “Oh, you’ve heard of me? Good things I hope,” Sherlock said as he smiled. “Uh-huh, okay. Okay yes that’s perfect.” Sherlock moved through the kitchen and pulled out a spare piece of paper and a pen. He began to write down what appeared to be a phone number and an address. “Uh-huh. Okay yes sir. Thank you so much for your time. See you soon.” Sherlock turned off the phone and danced in the room. He twirled and singed and then was hushed by John in fear for waking the child.

                “I’m guessing it went good then?” John asked with an amused expression on his face.

                “Oh, better than good John. It’s bloody _fantastic_.” He jumped up in the air and smiled at his husband.

“How did he agree so easily?” John asked, smiling at Sherlock as he propped his head on his hands. Sherlock turned around to face John, his eyes shined madly and his smile was wider than the Cheshire cat’s.

“Turns out my reputation isn’t just confined to England, my dear Watson.”


End file.
